


Sons of Sirens One Shots

by sophene



Series: Sons of Sirens Universe [2]
Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Barbara Gordon is Oracle, Damian Wayne is Rook, Dick Grayson is Stray, Gen, Jason Todd is Jack of Clubs, Tim Drake is Nightshade
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:47:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26014507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophene/pseuds/sophene
Summary: This is where I will post any one shot fics from the Sons of Sirens universe. Reading the original fic is probably going to be necessary to understand these one shots.
Relationships: Barbara Gordon & Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson & Selina Kyle, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd
Series: Sons of Sirens Universe [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1888153
Comments: 17
Kudos: 127





	1. The Formula

**Author's Note:**

> This scene takes place sometime not long after the events of Sons of Sirens.

Dick couldn’t find Tim at first when he arrived at his hideout. Tim’s new place was underground and from the little of it that was still visible behind trailing vines and flourishing plants, it had once been an old subway station. There was so much plant life, however—and also a surprising amount of computer equipment—that Tim was entirely hidden from view.

He came around a bend, finding his way blocked off with a curtain of hanging vines. He lifted a hand to push the vines out of his way, but from somewhere beyond the curtain heard Tim say, “Don’t touch those. Poisonous.”

A second later they were crawling out of his way on their own, and Tim was finally revealed.

Like the rest of this place, Tim’s workplace was a confusing jumble of lab equipment, greenery, computer monitors, and random junk. There was a metal cage sitting on a worktable, and inside was a white rat. Tim was standing on the other side of the table fiddling with a syringe full of a green liquid that was so bright it almost seemed to glow.

Dick walked into this work area and looked around, whistling. He tried to avoid the plants, even though he was covered head to toe in boots and a jacket. It was better to be safe than sorry around Ivy and Tim.

“I was wondering where you’ve been hiding out lately,” Dick said.

Tim didn’t say anything. Dick was surprised to see that Tim was wearing the suit Batman had given him, the one that covered all of him except his feet and his face.

“You know Batman bugged those suits right?” Dick asked.

Tim didn’t look up from the syringe when he said, “Yeah, I know. He doesn’t bother me much since I joined Young Justice though, and I needed this suit today.”

“Why?”

“Sit,” Tim said, nodding his head at a rolling chair next to the work table.

Dick looked at the chair, then at the syringe in Tim’s hand. He’d assumed that whatever was in the syringe was for the rat, but now he wasn’t so sure.

“Why?” he asked again.

“Just do it. And take off the jacket.”

Dick narrowed his eyes at him.

He wasn’t paying attention to the ground, though, so he didn’t see the vines. All the sudden they were grabbing his arms and he let out an involuntary shout as they traveled up his limbs, somehow managing to shrug one sleeve of his jacket off his arm. They stopped as soon as the crook of his elbow was exposed, and then he was being jostled into the rolling chair.

“Don’t worry, this will be over in a minute,” Tim said, approaching him with the syringe.

“Tim!” Dick said.

But the vines had him entirely in their grasp, pulling on his arm so that Tim had easy access to his veins. Dick hadn’t brought his whip or any of his other weapons in with him—he hadn’t thought he’d need them—so he was powerless do to anything as Tim set one of his covered hands on Dick’s arm and used the other to push the tip of the needle into his skin. Then Tim was pushing the green substance into Dick’s bloodstream, and Dick was hit with a wave of nausea so powerful that he almost wretched.

It was over as soon as it had begun. Tim stepped back, and the vines retreated, and Dick was free.

“What the hell, Tim,” Dick said, basically rolling out of the chair. “What was that? Did you go full supervillain?”

“Not yet,” Tim said.

With one hand, Tim reached up to his own elbow and fiddled with some hidden seam of his suit. There was a soft popping noise, and then Tim was rolling the sleeve—glove?—of the suit down and off.

He took a step toward Dick again and placed his bare fingertips on Dick’s forearm.

Dick flinched back out of habit and said, “What are you—?”

But even as the question was leaving his mouth, Dick knew that what he’d expected would happen was not happening. He looked down at his arm. He felt the the place where Tim’s fingertips had made contact.

“What happened? It didn’t hurt,” Dick said.

Tim held up the empty syringe.

“Ivy gave me the formula,” Tim told him. “It works very fast.”

It took Dick longer than he was proud of to work out the implications of this.

“The one she gave to Harley and Jason so they can be around you two without any danger,” Dick said.

“I wanted to give it to you and Selina at the same time, but I knew it would be harder to get Selina here than you,” Tim said.

“Did you consider just telling her what you planned to do? Jeez, Tim. You didn’t have to go all Dr. Crane on me there,” Dick said.

Tim smiled a little, bashfully hiding behind his messy hair a bit as he said, “Yeah, but it was kind of fun.”

Dick walked over and grabbed Tim, wrapping him in a bear hug. Tim let out a little squeak of surprise and was stiff in Dick’s arms for a minute, but then he was hugging Dick too, tentatively wrapping his arms around Dick’s back.

“I thought you were going to use the syringe on the rat,” Dick said.

“Splinter? I already did. Watch,” Tim said.

He wriggled out of the hug and went to the cage on the worktable. He opened it and put his bare hand in. The rat didn’t seem at all concerned about this, and let Tim pick it up without any wriggling or running.

Tim held the rat with his bare hand and petted him with the other.

“Cool, right?” Tim said, smiling.

He looked so happy that Dick’s heart almost broke.

“Sure is, kid,” Dick said.

“Now that I know it works on Splinter and you, I’m going to give it to Selina next. Ivy said it was ok even if she is dating Batman,” Tim said.

He petted Splinter for a little while longer, then put him back in the cage.

“You mean you haven’t used this formula on anybody else yet?” Dick asked.

Tim looked over at him, confusion on his face.

“No, why would I?” Tim asked.

“What about those Young Justice kids you hang out with now?” Dick asked.

Tim shrugged and said, “I may give it to them eventually. I don’t know. I’m thinking about it.”

“Not even Superboy? I thought he was your boyfriend or something,” Dick said.

Tim shook his head, blushing a little as he said, “Superboy isn’t my boyfriend.”

“Yeah, but—”

Dick fell silent, and didn’t complete the sentence. Out of everybody, Tim had chosen to use the formula on him first. Well, technically the rat had been first, but Dick had been the first human.

Without really meaning to, Dick reached out and touched Tim’s arm again. He could remember one time when he’d accidentally brushed up against a shirt Tim had been wearing. Ivy had cleaned out the toxins in time, but the burn mark had taken weeks to heal. Dick had always been a tactile person; training himself out of the instinct to touch Tim casually had been a huge pain. Especially so when Tim so often looked like he needed the contact.

Now there was no agony, no burning.

“Wow, that’s going to take some time to get used to,” Dick said.

“Yeah, it is,” Tim said.

Even now Dick could see how he was braced to pull away.

Dick did not let Tim pull away. Instead Dick stepped closer to him, throwing an arm around Tim’s shoulders. Tim let out an _oof_ sound, but did not shrug him off.

“Sucks for you,” Dick said. “I hope you can get used to some casual contact because now I’m going to bother you all the time just like I bother Jason. Alright, show me what you’re working on down here. What the hell is that?”

Dick pointed at a strange black flower that seemed to be oozing.

Tim sighed, but he started talking about the flower. It didn’t take long before he’d gotten carried away, rambling and gesturing with his hands as he explained what he was working on with Ivy, but still didn’t shrug Dick off. All things considered, he didn’t seem that put out to be bothered.


	2. The Boy from the Circus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one shot is set waaaay before the events of Sons of Sirens. Selina gets a tough job and needs some special help in order to pull it off.

The boy didn’t cry out as Selina sped through the chaotic winding streets of Gotham, but she could tell he was scared by the way he squeezed her tighter every time she made a sharp turn or a risky maneuver between cars in their way. This part of the plan was something Selina had settled on weeks ago and given no second thought, and she was kind of annoyed with herself to be doubting it now.

 _We’ll be fine_ , she thought, hoping to calm her own nerves. She’d driven her bike countless times in much more dire circumstances and she’d never once even had a minor crash. She had to focus.

Fortunately, Batman and most of the GCPD were busy trying to catch Scarecrow, so it was fairly easy to shake the couple of cop cars that had been sent to hunt her down.

At last they crossed over the border into Chinatown, and Selina breathed a sigh of relief. It was almost over. She dodged a jaywalking man who shouted after her, and made a sharp turn right. The half-blocked entrance to the tunnel was before her.

“Hold on!” she yelled, even though the boy was already squeezing her so hard that she could barely breathe.

The boy did let out a sharp cry when she blew past the bright orange and white construction sign. The tunnel ahead of them was pitch black, but she’d walked it fifteen, twenty, thirty times, over and over again so that knew the way in the dark of night, with only her bike’s dim headlight to guide her. The boy squeezed harder than ever as she drove around construction equipment and piles of dirt and broken concrete.

She made a sharp turn again down a narrower maintenance tunnel. Fortunately, this path was much clearer than the previous tunnel. It was also the last stretch of their getaway, but she didn’t slow down until she saw light ahead.

Under a single solitary lamp there was a metal door, one so brown with muck and age that it blended into the walls around it. Selina drove over to the door and at last stopped.

The boy didn’t let go of her right away. Selina turned off the bike. The sound of the motorcycle’s roaring engine was swallowed up by the crushing silence of the tunnel. 

“Kid,” she said. “We’re here. You can let go now.”

It still took a moment for the boy to move. His arms let up their crushing vice on her ribs, and he clumsily climbed off the back of the bike, stumbling a bit no doubt due to the weight of the object in his backpack. Selina waited until he was off and then she did the same, pushing the kickstand with her foot so she could let go of the handles. She heard as he pulled off his helmet and dropped it on the ground.

She turned to face him.

The boy wasn’t looking at her, but around them at the dark tunnel. His skin was a shade paler than it had been before their wild ride through Gotham.

At last he turned to her, gazing up at her with his huge blue eyes.

“That...was amazing!” he said. His voice boomed, amplified as it echoed down the tunnel.

“You think so?” she asked. She didn’t say so, but she thought the whole job been a little sloppy. The kid had never been in any immediate danger, but she’d been distracted by his welfare nonetheless.

“That security guard came in with a gun and you were like—” He mimicked her cracking her whip and made a sound effect that did not in any way sound like a whip connecting with a target. “And then that other guy tried to get you from behind but you knocked him right off his feet!”

Selina opened her mouth to interject, but the boy worked himself up into a frenzy. He dove into a solo reenactment of the entire job, with sound effects and kicks and jabs of his fists. She was amazed that he had an energy left after their escape, but he seemed perfectly happy to run and flip off the walls. Selina put her hands on her hips as she watched him, amazed again at the way he moved across the ground. It was like gravity didn’t have the same hold on him as everybody else.

At last he seemed to tucker himself out a little bit. He turned back to her, wrapping his hands around the straps of the backpack and as he asked, “You do that all the time?”

The Crowne Museum, the institution they’d just robbed, had some of the finest security in Gotham. Selina had guessed that their escape would draw a lot of attention, and she hadn’t been wrong. 

“I prefer to make a quieter getaway than that, but sometimes it’s unavoidable,” she said. 

“Wow,” he said, his voice a hoarse whisper.

“You can hand over that backpack now,” she said, holding out her hand.

He examined the hand, in particular her long nails, and some of the excitement on his face vanished. It was replaced by an uneasy expression, and his tiny hands tightened around the straps of the backpack.

She could tell what was going through his head without him having to say a word.

“I’ll give it to you, but...you have to take me with you first. I want to go with you to meet the clients so they can give us the money. Together,” he said. 

Selina raised an eyebrow. “That was never part of the plan.” 

“Right now I know where you are,” he said, examining her face. “If you leave I won’t know where you are.” 

“You’ll get your share. I’m a woman of my word.” She meant it, too. The boy was good. She might need his help again, so there was nothing to gain from leaving him high and dry. 

He stood up straight and stared her down, a determined expression on his smudged face. He didn’t say anything, but the message was clear. He had no intention of turning over the backpack without a fight. 

Selina considered him. She knew what one of the other rogues would do. At best, they’d take the backpack and abandon him to wander the tunnels. At worst, they’d kill him. Selina would never do something like that, but he didn’t know it and he was taking a big risk by standing up to her. A bigger one than he knew. 

Selina sighed. 

“Fine,” she said. “Pick up that helmet and come with me.” 

* * *

The apartment Selina took him to wasn’t one of her biggest or nicest places, but it was close to the tunnel and suited her current need. She hadn’t been by in a while and there was nothing to eat, so she ordered some food for them from a small Thai place nearby.

She changed out of her suit while the boy wandered around the den, looking at paintings and inspecting various items she’d left scattered out across her coffee table. She instructed him to stay out of sight when the delivery girl arrived with their food, then ushered him toward the coffee table in the den. 

At last, they made their trade. She handed him his dinner, and he slipped the backpack off and offered it to her.

He sat down on the couch and ate as she unzipped the backpack and removed a bundle wrapped in old t-shirts and a thin threadbare towel. Carefully she began to remove the wrappings, revealing the treasure hidden within: a small but heavy bronze statue of a man, discolored with age. Selina stared down at it, admiring it from different angles.

Behind her, the boy set down his food and came over to her side, looking around her to see the statue. 

The statue’s body was boxy, and there was a wild, exaggerated expression on his face. Delicate designs were set into his metal skin. It was heavier than it looked.

“That’s it?” the boy said.

Selina looked down at him and caught his unimpressed expression. 

“This statue is worth millions of dollars,” she said, raising an eyebrow. 

“Really? Why?” he asked.

“It’s very old. Can't you tell?” 

He frowned, looking even less impressed. Selina shook her head and turned to admire it again, but only for another moment. She wasn’t keeping this treasure, so there was no point in getting attached. She began to rewrap it. 

“You should eat your dinner,” she said.

He shrugged and went back over to the couch. He picked up his carton of Thai food and resumed eating as told. She finished rewrapping the statue and returned it to the backpack. She had better storage for it at one of her other places, but she wasn’t willing to risk revealing that place by taking the boy there.

He was still chewing when he asked, “Is this where you live?”

“This is one of the places where I hang out sometimes.”

“You have multiple apartments? In _Gotham_?”

“I don’t pay for them all. Some of them are just empty places that I’ve claimed. This place was given to me as a gift.”

“What for?” he asked.

“I did a favor for someone. Instead of cash I was offered this place as a hideout,” she said.

“You mean you stole something for somebody.”

“What do you think?” she asked.

He didn’t respond to that.

She left the backpack on the kitchen counter and came over to sit down on the velvet armchair across from the couch. She took the other carton from the Thai place and opened it, and for a while they sat in silence as they both ate. The boy bounced his leg and his eyes continued to travel around the room, lingering on the paintings. She wondered if he recognized them and knew they were priceless.

“Why do you steal?” he asked. 

“Because I’m good at it, and not really good for anything else,” she told him.

He eyed her, then looked away.

“Don’t you feel bad?” he asked. 

“Not really, no.”

“Why?”

Selina considered the question, but instead of answering it, asked one of her own. 

“Do you feel bad for helping me tonight?”

He eyed her again, unexpectedly shy.

“A little,” he admitted.

“Do you know where Bialya is?” she asked.

He shook his head.

“Bialya is a country in the Middle East. It has a complicated history, a history that was made more complicated because of the interests of the British empire. Once there was a soldier who made a lot of money by raiding Bialyan burial grounds and religious temples. He took a lot of things that didn’t belong to him.

“That statue we stole tonight was one of the things that he took that didn’t belong to him. It belongs the members of a minor religious group native to Bialya. They have been waiting a long, long time to get it back. For a while they hoped that if they were loud enough and complained often enough, someone would feel bad and give it back. No one did.”

The boy absorbed this in silence, his body still for a change as he listened.

“Finally, they decided on a last resort,” she went on. “They raised some money, which they offered to me so that I would steal their statue back for them. So no, I don’t feel bad for taking it.” 

The boy was quiet for a moment.

“If it was taken from them in the first place, then why are you making them pay you?” he asked after a beat.

“I’m not making them do anything. They offered me the money to steal it back and I accepted. Considering the circumstances, I accepted a much lower fee than I would usually charge for a job this complicated.”

“Yeah, but if you really weren’t a bad guy—”

“I am one of the bad guys,” she said, interrupting him. 

He flinched at the harshness of her tone, and she felt a distant, unfamiliar twinge of remorse. She hadn’t spent a lot of time around children and there was something about this one that made her not want to be mean to him. 

“The Crowne family has poured millions into improving the security at their museum. Every time I walk through those doors I know I might not walk back out. So it isn’t as if what I do is without risks,” she said. “You can think of it as the Bialyans paying me for those risks.”

Again he was silent, thinking. She could tell that he wasn’t quite over the moral quandary of it yet, so she waited for him to speak.

“But you don’t always do stuff like this,” he said, eyes briefly going to the backpack. “Sometimes people talk about you, on TV and at school. They say you just like to steal things.” 

Selina shrugged. “They aren’t wrong.” 

She could see he was stuck on this bit, and she set her carton back down on the coffee table and sat up straight. She wasn’t really hungry anyway. 

“Why did you take this job?” she asked him.

He glanced over at her, surprised.

“I…need the money,” he said.

Selina did know bits and pieces about his background. For example, she knew that his name was Dick Grayson. She also knew that he was in the foster system. He'd spent some time with a couple of different families, but was currently living in a group home. 

“Why?” she asked him. “Is there a reason in particular?” 

He was silent for a beat.

“I need to leave Gotham so I can go find Haly’s Circus,” he said.

This wasn’t the answer she was expecting. She’d been expecting a tragic tale about a sick relative in need of expensive care, money for a parent in prison. Something ordinary.

“You’re a little old to be entertaining daydreams of running off to join the circus,” she said.

“Not just _any_ circus. _Haly’s_ Circus. My parents worked for Haly’s Circus. They were trapeze artists. There was…they died performing in Gotham. That’s how I got stuck here in the group home,” he said, not meeting her eyes.

No doubt he used to perform right alongside his parents, and that’s how he’d learned to move the way that he did. 

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Selina told him.

He swallowed, although he hadn’t taken a bite of his food for a while.

“Don’t you have any other family members? Aunts, uncles? Grandparents?” she asked.

He shook his head. “If I can make it to Mr. Haly I know he’d work something out. Everybody loved my parents. I know one of the others will pretend that I’m their kid so that I can go with them.”

Except, Selina thought, somebody from the circus already had the opportunity to adopt him if they’d wanted to. And yet, he’d been left behind, either by choice or because any potential guardian had been deemed unsuitable.

“How old are you?” she asked him.

He didn’t bat an eye. “Thirteen.”

She narrowed her eyes at him and he shrank a bit.

“I’m eleven,” he admitted.

“And how do you expect to travel across the country by yourself?” she asked.

“If you have enough money you can get away with a lot,” he said.

“So your plan is to lie and bribe your way across the United States?”

He shrugged one shoulder. It was an uncaring gesture, but his eyes were bleak, as if he did see the huge flaws in his plan.

Then he said, “You could help me.” 

Selina cocked her head at him. “Me?” 

“You know people. You have connections. You could help me get back to the circus,” he said. 

Selina didn’t say anything. His shoulders were slumped, and there was no hope in his eyes. He’d put the idea out there, but he didn’t believe in it. He didn’t believe she would help him. He didn’t believe anyone would help him.

Selina pursed her lips and tapped a fingernail on the carved wooden arm of her chair. He watched her, wary and expecting rejection. 

She got up. The boy looked up at her as she rose.

“I’m getting a drink,” she said.

She turned and headed for the kitchen without waiting for him to say anything.

In the kitchen, Selina poured herself a glass of wine and considered the problem.

She never should have brought him back to her place. She should have dropped him back off at the group home as soon as the job was done and ignored any threats he made. Now that she was stuck with him, she needed to get rid of him as fast as possible. Already she was too invested in what might happen to him. If he wanted to leave Gotham and go on some wild goose chase looking for a circus, it wasn’t her problem.

She drank a long sip of her wine before she returned to the den. 

She was ready to be vicious when she walked out of the kitchen. She had the expression on her face that she used on her enemies, the cold, steely one that made mob bosses and supervillains squirm.

The boy did not see it.

He’d fallen asleep sitting up, slumped against the back of the couch with his head leaning on the armrest. His carton of Thai food was still in his hand, but was balanced precariously and threatening to fall over into his lap. 

Selina stared down at him.

She could still wake him up and tell him to get out. He’d be mad and disappointed, but Selina was accustomed to that. She'd been disappointing people her whole life. 

She did not wake him up. His face was slack, all of the evening’s tension gone for just a little while. The apartment was so quiet that she could hear the little wheezing sounds he made when he breathed. Outside, night deepened. 

Eventually Selina went over to the couch and took the half-eaten carton of Thai food out of his hand. She packed up the rest of the food and put it in the refrigerator, and then she went to the bedroom and fetched a blanket. When she draped it over him, he didn't stir.

Maybe she did owe him a night of peace. She'd call it a favor, a freebie for how expertly he'd helped her that evening. 

She could always be cruel in the morning.


	3. Winter Break

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story takes place almost a year after the events of Sons of Sirens.

Dick arrived at the restaurant before the other two, but was only waiting for a couple of minutes before Jason showed up. Dick spotted him over the top of his menu and waved him over.

Jason had been overseas for school so this was the first time Dick had seen him since the summer. He looked like he was doing well, but was maybe a little tired. He was wearing a leather jacket over a wine purple sweatshirt with his university’s logo in white on the front. He was also wearing glasses with rectangular plastic frames, and Dick had to admit that they did contribute quite a bit to the “harmless college student” look Jason was obviously trying to pull off.

Dick got up and wrapped him in a hug when Jason reached the table.

“Alright, enough,” Jason said, patting him on the back. “Nice to see you too, Dickhead.”

Dick slapped him on the back and smirked at him as he let him go.

“Nice disguise, Poindexter.”

“Actually they’re prescription,” Jason said. “It turns out that reading books printed in tiny fonts takes a toll on the eyes.”

“Huh, who knew?” Dick said.

Behind them, someone said, “So are we going to sit down, or…?”

Jason and Dick turned and looked down to see that they had been joined by Tim.

Tim was wearing a dark green jacket and black gloves, and his hair was a little bit less unruly than usual. Dark sunglasses concealed his eyes.

“Tim!” Dick said. He immediately proceeded to wrap Tim in a hug as well, waiting a bit for that point where Tim relaxed. Tim still wasn’t quite used to casual touches from Dick yet, so Dick seized every opportunity he could to smother him in physical affection. After a moment Tim relaxed.

When Dick at last let Tim go, Tim and Jason greeted each other with a nod. Then they did all sit down. Tim sat on Dick’s side of the table, and Dick let Tim take the seat near the window so he wouldn’t be right by the aisle. They were having a late lunch that day, and their end of the restaurant was empty except for them, but it was still best to keep Tim away from the aisle and anyone who could accidentally brush up against him just in case.

Jason took his leather jacket off and threw it over the back of his chair as he sat down, but Tim did not remove the sunglasses, gloves, or his jacket. The waitress came over to get their drink orders as soon as she saw that they were ready, so Dick waited until she left to address the elephant in the room.

When she was far enough away, Dick turned to Tim and asked, “You going to keep all of that on the entire time?” He gestured at Tim’s outfit with a hand.

Tim looked up from the menu and said, “Huh?”

“The jacket, the sunglasses,” Dick said.

Tim shook his head.

Dick was prepared to let it go, but Jason frowned over at Tim asked, “Are you wearing makeup right now?”

Dick studied Tim again and saw that Tim’s skin was a little less green than usual.

“Harley gave it to me,” Tim said.

“Why?”

“So that I blend in better.”

“Wearing sunglasses and gloves inside a restaurant is your idea of blending in better?” Jason asked.

“My eyes look weird, remember?” Tim said.

“I thought you didn’t have to blend in now because you’re part of the Teen Super Squad or something,” Jason said. 

“Young Justice,” Tim corrected. “And yes I have to blend in because people still call the cops when they see me. Even though I haven’t done anything illegal in over a year.”

That last part sounded bitter.

Dick was surprised by this information, but he didn’t get to bring it up because their diligent waitress was already heading back with their drinks. They ordered their food and when she departed again, Dick turned to Tim to resume the conversation.

“You haven’t done anything illegal in over a year?” Dick asked him, his voice low.

“I’ll get kicked off the team if I do. Wonder Girl and Batman have made that crystal clear.”

Dick whistled. “I’m impressed. I did something illegal before heading over here to meet you two.”

The result of his illegal activity was currently tucked away into his pocket. He intended to use it to pay for his lunch.

“Big deal. I haven’t done anything illegal either,” Jason said.

Tim and Dick exchanged doubtful looks.

“Wait, I take it back,” Jason said. “I did throw some bricks through my professor’s windshield after I turned in my final paper a couple of weeks ago. But in my defense, that dude is a classist piece of shit and he had it coming.”

“Yes, everyone knows that illegal activity doesn’t count if the victim is a dick,” Tim said.

Instead of continuing to argue, Jason smirked as he looked between the two of them and said, “I’ve missed you two assholes.”

Dick grinned back at him, and even Tim cracked a small smile.

After that they focused on a less incriminating topic, because their waitress was lingering a little too close to their table and none of them really felt like spending the afternoon running from the police. They mostly talked about how school was going for Jason. It was the only thing any of them had going on that was not in anyway related to illegal or heroic activities.

They were still on this subject by the time their waitress dropped off their food.

“What are your classmates like?” Dick asked as he cut his chicken. “Do you have any friends?”

“Jesus, you sound like Harley. No,” Jason said.

“None? Really?” Dick asked.

“Unlike you, I don’t have to flirt with everyone everywhere I go,” Jason said.

“How do you spend your free time if you haven’t made any friends?”

Jason, who was chewing on a bite of his hamburger, sighed through his nose and rolled his eyes. He finished chewing before he answered the question.

“Trust me, I can find companionship when I need it, if you know what I mean,” he said.

“Yes, I think Tim and I are savvy enough to pick up on what you mean,” Dick said.

“I think,” Tim said, his voice lowered, “what Dick is getting at is whether or not you’ve made any of _our_ type of friends in England.”

Jason shook his head. “I’ve been on my best behavior. Aside from the bricks thing.”

Jason took another bite out of his hamburger, and a thoughtful look came over his face. Again, he waited until he was done chewing before he spoke.

“Although, I did meet this guy about a month ago who I was wondering about. British guy, blond, scummy looking. He started hitting on me while I was studying at this pub near campus, and when I told him to fuck off and bother somebody else, he switched tactics and told me he needed me to hit him,” Jason said.

“Why would he need you to hit him?” Tim said, frowning.

“No idea.”

“Did you do it?” Dick asked.

“Well, yeah. Somebody offers to let me hit them, of course I’m going to take that opportunity,” Jason said. “It turned out he could handle himself in a fight and he hit me back. Did not look like the type at all, so it kind of caught me off guard. He split after that, though, and I never saw him again.”

Tim and Dick absorbed this in silence.

“What about you, Tim?” Dick said, turning to him. “How’s it going with your new friends?”

“They’re not my friends, we’re just on the same team.”

“Are you sure? Pam says you’ve been spending a lot of time with them.”

“Yeah, how’s your boyfriend doing?” Jason asked him.

Even with the makeup on, Dick could see Tim’s cheeks flush.

“I've just been spending a lot of time with them because there’s a lot going on. The others are busy with things. They have school and families, and I don’t, so it makes sense that I’d be heavily involved in the team.”

“Ok,” Jason said, sounding unconvinced.

“I don’t want to talk about the team, ok. Especially not—”

Something out the window caught Tim’s eye, however, and he stopped short. Dick and Jason looked out the window as well, and quickly spotted what it was that had caught Tim’s attention.

There was a large black SUV parked across the street from the café where they were eating lunch, and two young women were standing beside it. They looked familiar, and it took Dick a moment to place them, but he did at last. The one with the short black bob was Cassandra Cain-Wayne, the adopted daughter of Bruce Wayne, Gotham’s local celebrity. The blonde woman was Cassandra Cain-Wayne’s girlfriend, but Dick didn’t know her name.

“Ah,” Jason said.

Dick also understood Tim’s distraction. Tim had grown up in a house next door to Bruce Wayne’s, so he’d always been a little fixated on him and his family.

“What?” Tim said, and turned away from the window to look at Dick and Jason. He only looked at them for a moment, however, and then he turned back to stare at the two women across the street again.

“I see you’re still obsessed with the Waynes,” Dick said.

“I’m not obsessed with them.”

“Ok.”

“If anything, you’re the one who is obsessed with them,” Tim said.

“Just because of the security at Wayne Manor. That dude has a better security system than The Crown Museum.” Dick had never once been able to get in without tripping an alarm, and he loved a good challenge.

They all continued watching. The Waynes were fantastically wealthy, good looking, and enigmatic, so it was difficult not to be at least a little bit curious whenever they turned up. He, Tim, and Jason weren’t even the only ones in the area who were staring. Some rando out on the street was not-so-subtly trying to snap a picture with her phone.

As they watched, two others walked around the corner of the street. One of them, the girl, had faded pink hair. The other, the boy, had a prosthetic foot. They joined Cassandra Cain-Wayne and her girlfriend.

“Who are they?” Jason asked.

“Harper and Cullen Row. Bruce’s latest orphans,” Tim said.

“Jesus, he got more? Doesn’t that strike anyone in this whole damn city as being kind of weird?” Jason said.

“I think it’s nice,” Dick said. “He has all that money and doesn’t have to do anything if he doesn’t want to. But he takes in these kids who have nowhere else to go.”

At that moment two other figures who had been hidden behind the SUV walked over to join the small group. The two newcomers were Mr. Wayne himself, and a child who barely came up to his elbow. The child had black hair and light brown skin, and was wearing a fine black coat. Mr. Wayne was smiling and there was a fierce scowl on the boy’s face, but the likeness was unmistakable. The boy had to be Mr. Wayne’s son.

“That’s his kid, right?” Dick asked.

“Damian Wayne,” Tim said, jerking his head in a nod.

Cassandra Cain-Wayne’s girlfriend, the blonde woman, smiled widely over at the kid and said something. He obviously didn’t like whatever it was she’d said, and he was still scowling as he said something back. Undeterred, the blonde suddenly moved toward him. He backed away, but before he could get too far she scooped him up like he weighed nothing and held him in her arms like a baby. He thrashed in indignation and was yelling something none of them could hear as the rest of the Waynes looked on and laughed.

Dick turned away from the window, losing interest. Jason had gone back to finishing his lunch. Dick’s food was getting cold as well.

“Doesn’t it ever make you wonder?” Tim asked.

Dick wasn’t sure whether he was talking to himself or to them, but he still asked, “Does what make us wonder?”

Tim looked away from the window at last, but kept throwing glances in the direction of the Waynes.

“About two years ago, Bruce Wayne became the legal guardian for Cullen and Harper Row. Around the same time, a new Batgirl appeared.”

Jason raised his eyebrows. “Are you saying there’s a connection between those two things?”

“I mean, think about it. Right now Batman’s got four sidekicks. Black Bat, Batgirl, Spoiler, and Rook.” He pointed out the window. “A girl with blonde hair, like Spoiler. Black Bat”—he pointed to Cassandra Cain-Wayne—“Batgirl”—he pointed at the girl with pink hair—“and Rook.” He pointed last at the boy, who by this time had managed to slither out of the blonde girl’s grasp and was yelling at her from behind his father.

Dick shook his head. “Nope, because it doesn’t explain the original Batgirl.” 

“There was that girl who died. Bruce Wayne’s first ward,” Tim offered.

Dick shook his head again. “That girl was too young.”

“Yes, but everyone speculates that there were two different girls with red hair who were both Batgirl, one after the other,” Tim said. His eyes widened and he added, “And something happened to Bruce Wayne’s first ward right around the same time that the second redheaded Batgirl died.”

“Then who was the first Batgirl then? What happened to her and how would she be connected to your theory?” He sounded frustrated, but the frustration wasn’t really directed at Tim. Not knowing what happened to the first Batgirl was something that had eaten away at Dick for years.

Tim shrugged.

“Maybe she was unconnected at first,” Tim said. “She was older, right? Too old to be adopted by Mr. Wayne maybe. But you have to admit that the rest of it makes sense. Somebody like Bruce Wayne would have the resources to get all of the tech that Batman has. And I noticed something last year when we were helping the Bats look for Jason and Rook. Batman made me go help protect that clinic and there was a photo of Bruce Wayne on the wall. He donated a lot of money—”

Jason, however, interrupted Tim at that point.

“No, wait, stop. Please god, stop. No,” Jason said. “I’ve talked to that guy and there’s no way he’s Batman.”

“Bruce Wayne?” Dick asked, raising an eyebrow. “ _You’ve_ talked to Bruce Wayne?”

“First of all, fuck you. I ran into him once back when I was still Jester. And let me tell you, that guy is as dumb as a box of rocks,” Jason said.

“It could be an act,” Tim said. “For as much as they build up the whole playboy thing on TV and in the news, Wayne Manor really didn’t get a whole lot of visitors back when I lived next door. He’d throw parties sometimes, sure, but rarely at his house. I remember. Anything could be going on over there.”

Dick thought again about the security system at Wayne Manor. He’d always written it off as a special brand of paranoia unique to the excessively wealthy, but it could also mean there was something hidden in that house Mr. Wayne didn’t want anyone to find.

Surely Selina had gotten in before, though. Dick would have to ask.

At that thought, Dick looked out the window again. He was just in time to see that all of the Waynes were getting into the expensive-looking SUV. Dick examined them all as he considered Tim’s theory.

Across the street, the boy with the prosthetic foot got into the vehicle, then went his pink-haired sister, and the blonde. Damian Wayne was in the passenger seat already. His father was behind the wheel.

Cassandra Cain-Wayne was the last to approach the car, but before she got in she scanned her surroundings. Dick watched as she looked around.

All of the sudden she was looking right across the street, into the café where he, Jason, and Tim were having lunch.

She stopped. She did not look away.

“Jason,” Dick said.

“What?” Jason said, but in his peripheral vision he saw Jason’s head turn toward the window.

Cassandra Cain-Wayne's expression was unreadable. She certainly didn’t look worried to see three notorious criminals watching her.

Maybe she didn’t recognize them, Dick thought. Tim was dressed odd, but he didn’t look as planty as usual, and Jason’s disguise was pretty convincing. Most people still didn’t recognize Dick.

The blonde leaned out of the car and called to Cassandra Cain-Wayne, and she looked away at last. She turned and climbed into the car without another look back in their direction, tugging the door shut behind her.

“Huh,” Jason said.

The SUV pulled away from the sidewalk.

“That was weird. Right?” Tim asked, glancing between Dick and Jason. He lowered his voice, hissing as he said, "What if she's really Black Bat? What if she comes after us? Do you think she recognized us?" 

Dick was surprised to feel so unsettled. He still wasn’t sure he bought Tim’s theory, but he did have a distinct feeling that it would be a bad idea to be on Cassandra Cain-Wayne’s radar.

“I don’t know,” Dick told the other two, frowning. “But maybe we should get our check and get out of here, just in case.”


	4. A Debt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian goes to investigate a possible break in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set about a year and six months-ish after the events of Sons of Sirens.

“ _Hey, Rook_?” Oracle said. “ _I think I’ve got one for you._ ”

Damian sat up straight. It had only been a month since his father had allowed him to start patrolling alone, and Gotham had been frustratingly quiet in that time. The only things Damian had done that night were break up a few drunken fights and take a cat he found to the closest animal hospital.

“I’m listening,” he said.

“ _Rosen Jewelers on Sprang Street_ ,” she said. “ _Something just tripped an alarm, but it was shut off a moment later. Not notable, I know, but I went looking for security cameras and there either aren’t any or they’ve been disabled_.”

Damian was insulted she’d try to tempt him with such a pitiful incident.

“What if it’s the owners?” he asked.

“ _Do you have anything better to do_?” she asked. “ _I can send one of the others if you want me to, but you’re the closest_.”

Damian did not respond to this, but he did go. He might as well, he thought. It would probably turn out to be nothing, but it wasn’t like he had anything else to do.

Oracle rattled off facts as he made his way there. Most of it was about the Rosens, the family that owned the store, but she also told him how old the building was, how many employees worked there, and how much the store made in sales every year. She seemed to be an endless fount of information.

Damian put his grappling gun away when he reached Sprang Street and made his way down the block by jumping from building to building. Across the street from the jewelry store there was a café, which was closed at that time of the night. But it did have a patio, conveniently blocked off by a metal fence and lots of bushes. Damian climbed down the fire escape and dropped down in between two of the tables.

He went over to a gap in the bushes, crouched down to stay out of sight. The security gates were pulled shut across the front of Rosen Jewelers, and the store windows behind them were dark.

“ _What do you see_?” Oracle asked.

“Nothing,” Damian said. “The gates are still intact. The lights are off. I don’t see anything amiss.”

“ _The lights should be on_ ,” Oracle said.

“What?”

“ _At night most jewelry stores leave their lights on. A shop of this size should have security cameras, and security cameras won’t pick up anything if there’s no light_ ,” she said.

Damian felt foolish for not making that connection. He was about to suggest that maybe the owners of this particular store were negligent, but didn’t because at that moment he did see some light. It was just a flash of it, like the beam of a flashlight.

“I saw something,” he whispered.

“ _What_?”

“A flashlight, perhaps. I’m going to investigate,” he said.

“Be careful, Rook,” she said.

Damian responded to this with a sigh, but he was feeling less annoyed by Oracle now that it seemed like maybe she had found him something interesting to investigate after all. The jewelry store would no doubt have a back entrance, so Damian ran into the alleyway and started to make his way toward it, keeping an eye out for anything that looked out of place as he went. All he saw was a typical alleyway in Gotham, dirty and smelling of garbage.

He slowed as he reached the back entrance to Rosen Jewelers, sticking to the shadows. The back door—which had a large white STAFF ENTRY ONLY decal on its metal surface—was shut. There were no back windows, but there was a security camera pointing down at the door.

“Do you see the camera?” he asked.

“ _I see it, but I can’t access it_ ,” she said.

Damian went over to the door and tried the handle. It didn't budge. He made quick work of picking the lock.

He was on guard as he turned the handle and pushed the door open. The hinges made a soft squeak, but as Damian looked into the corridor beyond, he couldn’t see any sign of an intruder. Quiet as a phantom, he stepped in and shut the door behind him. He needed a moment to let the lenses in his domino mask adjust to the dark, but then he was moving. The beam of light he’d seen had come from the storefront, so Damian went that way.

When he finally came upon the opening that led out to the area behind the sales counter, he peeked around and at last saw what he was looking for.

There _was_ an intruder in the store. They were holding a small flashlight that let out a dim beam of light, and they were dressed all in black. Whoever it was, they were too busy digging through the contents of one of the jewelry cases to notice that Damian was watching them.

Damian froze when he noticed the tell-tale points of cat ears on the intruder’s head, thinking at first that the figure was Catwoman. But the figure was not Catwoman, he realized a moment later.

It was her protégé, Stray.

“ _Damn it_ ,” Oracle said.

Damian had seen Stay three or four times since the night when Damian got him arrested, but he’d never run into him without his father by his side. Had it been any one of the other rogues Damian would’ve already given Oracle the signal to call the police. However, Stray had proven that he was not just any rogue. Stray was a rogue who had saved Damian’s life once, and that debt had yet to be repaid. Unlike the others, he did not enjoy hurting people. There was a chance Damian could reason with him, and convince him to leave without stealing anything. Then there would be no need to fight him or call the police.

This decided, Damian moved toward the opening at the end of the counter, getting out a batarang just in case. Oracle did not protest, which was unexpected, but there was no time to think about why.

Damian was completely, utterly quiet as he went around the counter, but he saw Stray pause anyway. One hand went to his whip, and his shoulders tightened. The next instant he was turning and shining his flashlight right at Damian.

He heard Stray let out a deep breath, and the hand near his whip dropped again.

“Jeez, kid, you scared me,” he said. He shone the flashlight around the dark store and said, “You’re dad’s not around right?”

“He’s busy elsewhere,” Damian said.

“That’s what I like to hear. Are the cops on their way?”

“Not yet.”

“I can work with not yet,” Stray said.

Now that he was closer, Damian could see Stray better. Stray had a bag over his shoulder that was bulging with stolen jewelry. There was some of it on him, too. Unlike Catwoman, Stray’s ears were exposed, and Damian could see that there were jewels lining his ears. He was also wearing several necklaces, rings, and bracelets. This was one of Catwoman’s tricks, Damian knew. Even if she lost her bag during a fight with Batman, sometimes she could still get away with jewels she was wearing. It was clear she’d advised her underling to do the same.

“So?” Stray said, putting his hand on his hip. A diamond tennis bracelet sparkled on his wrist even in the dim light, and Damian knew it wasn’t a coincidence that the hand was so close to his whip. “What do you want?”

Damian recalled the information Oracle had told him on his way to Sprang Street and said, “The Rosens are a local family. They’ve been running this store for over 70 years.”

Stray, for some reason, found this humorous. He laughed and said, “Yeah, I know. You know what else I know?”

Damian didn’t respond.

“I also know that the Rosens have been good family friends with the Falconis for over 70 years,” Stray said.

“Oracle?” Damian said.

“ _Looking_. _And I’m not—oh_.” There was a sigh. “ _He’s right_.”

“Interesting family to be pals with, am I right?” Stray asked.

Damian scrambled for another tactic.

“They have employees. Four of them. If you steal from the store they could lose their jobs—”

But Stray was shaking his head. He said, “They have four employees, yes, but three of them are family members. The other one is a security guard who also works as an enforcer for Falconi. Tell big sister that tidbit’s free of charge.”

“She’s not my sister, and she can hear you,” Damian said.

Stray smiled, but Damian went on before he could say anything.

“Making enemies of the Falconis would be a foolish idea,” Damian told him.

“Me and Selina already are. She stole the contents of Falconi’s personal safe last year because he pissed her off, and I helped.”

Damian didn’t have anything to say to that.

“Well?” Dick said, when the silence had gone on for too long. “What else you got? Help me see the error of my ways.”

Damian thought, harder and harder, but couldn’t come up with anything.

“ _Insurance_!” Oracle said. “ _If he steals from the Rosens they’ll just turn around and file a claim. They could make money off the thefts._ ”

But Damian didn’t say any of this, somehow already knowing it wouldn’t work. Stray had thought through this robbery. He wouldn’t be doing it in the first place unless he understood the risks.

“Why do you do this?” Damian asked him instead.

“I have bills to pay, same as anybody else,” Stray said.

“For a time you worked with my father against the Joker,” Damian said. “Selina Kyle works at his side all the time now, and she rarely steals from anyone anymore. Why do you still resort to a life of crime even when she doesn’t?”

“Because she’s not my keeper, kid. We’re our own people. Why, are you worried about me or something?”

“Theft is reprehensible.”

Stray shrugged. “I find a way to live with it.”

A beat of silence passed, and Damian finally said, “Fine.”

Stray tensed and eyed the batarang Damian was still holding.

“Are you going to fight me now?” he asked.

Damian shook his head.

Stray’s eyes widened. “Really? Why not?”

Damian didn’t want to answer the question, but Stray didn’t say anything. He simply stood there, hand on his hip next to his whip, curiosity all over his face.

“You saved my life,” Damian admitted, voice low and annoyed. “That is a debt I have still yet to repay. Next time you will not be so lucky.”

Stray stared at him for a moment more. Then he threw his head back and laughed.

Damian drew back, indignant. For a moment he reconsidered fighting Stray. Maybe the man deserved it, if he was so full of misplaced mirth.

When Stray was done laughing, he said, “I had no idea you were so honorable.”

Damian scowled at him.

Stray point at him. He said, “That looks more like the grumpy little kid I remember. You’ve gotten taller, you know.”

Damian was still annoyed, but he couldn’t help but be a little mollified. Brown continued to call Damian things like “shortie” even though he _was_ getting taller.

“I just instructed Oracle to notify the police,” Damian said.

Stray was serious again in an instant.

“Well, then I’d better be on my way,” he said.

Damian watched him as he went around a jewelry case, giving Damian a wide berth. He hopped over the sales counter so he wouldn’t have to pass Damian.

“You should scram too, you know. The Rosens will be really interested to know why you didn’t stop me if they find out you were here,” he said.

Then he disappeared into the darkness.

It was sound advice, though it too annoyed Damian for some reason. He went back through to the staff offices and followed the same path out that he’d used to get in. There was no sign of Stray, which Damian found unsurprising. There wouldn’t be now that Damian had let him get away.

Damian shut the back entrance to Rosen Jewelers behind him and left, but didn’t go far. He picked a dark spot next to a gargoyle on top of a building nearby. Within minutes he could hear the sirens. Eight police vehicles arrived a few seconds later, which seemed excessive to Damian, but the GCPD had as little to do as Damian and the rest of the Bats lately. He watched them swarm the establishment, their guns pointed at the empty store. There was no one to arrest.

When Oracle eventually spoke, Damian was impressed by how long she’d been able to restrain herself.

“ _Why did you let him go_?” she asked.

“As I told him, I still owe a debt,” Damian said through gritted teeth.

Oracle was silent as she considered this. Several minutes passed before she spoke again.

“ _It used to bother me too_ ,” she said.

"I have no idea what you're talking about.”

“ _It used to drive me crazy back when I was Batgirl. But Stray isn’t mentally ill. He has control over what he’s doing and he doesn’t want to be fixed. I finally had to accept that he is who he is._ ”

Damian had an impulse to say something dismissive in response, but held his tongue.

“ _I won’t tell your dad what happened tonight_ ,” she said.

“You have my appreciation,” he told her, and they said nothing more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was kind of exhausted when I wrote this so I apologize for any errors XD

**Author's Note:**

> I can make absolutely no promises about how many of these stories I will be writing or how often I will be posting them but I am working on another one that I hope to be able to post soon.


End file.
